Wicked Bite

by Jeaniene Frost

  “We should leave,” the husband said, edging out of the room. Ereshki must have agreed. She started to follow him until Ian snarled, “Stay!” with his eyes lit up.

  At that, all of them froze.

  Was Ereshki susceptible to mind control like regular humans now? Or had she frozen in place because she was afraid to make Ian any angrier? I didn’t have time to find out which. Ian’s eyes closed, and he drew in a breath as if to steady himself.

  “No,” he said in a grating tone. “I wouldn’t have reacted logically or rationally to you being dead in my arms, either. Now, is there anything else you neglected to mention to me?”

  I stared into his eyes, my anger leaving as fast as it had come. There was too much raw feeling in them for it to remain. Or, as my brother had warned me, was I only seeing what I wanted to see? Was I drowning in the same quicksand many, many others had by assuming Ian felt more for me than he did?

  “No,” I replied hoarsely. What Ian did or didn’t feel for me was a conversation for another time. Right now, survival came first. “That’s the last of my secrets, I think.”

  A sardonic smile curled Ian’s mouth. “I hope so, but I won’t be surprised if it’s not. Now”—back to our silent audience—“Mr. and Mrs. Rich, invite over half a dozen of the wealthiest sods you’re mates with. Don’t take no for an answer, either. I don’t know about my lovely wife, but I’m famished.”

  Chapter 33

  Mr. and Mrs. Rich, as Ian had ironically titled them, had several wealthy—and tasty—friends. One of them even had a company jet. That saved us the trouble of trying to get Ereshki through security at a commercial airport. She might appear to be susceptible to vampire mind control at the moment, but that could change. Who knew which of Dagon’s powers she’d absorbed but hadn’t shown, or perhaps didn’t even know about yet?

  We left the wealthy group with a lower red blood cell count and a memory of loaning the company jet to “friends.” That would buy us a day or two before the mogul snapped out of Ian’s compulsion and went after his plane. We made it easy to find by leaving it at the White Plains Airport in New York, then took an Uber to Manhasset.

  One glance showed why Ian had described this as his “favorite” home. It was as large as Yonah’s sprawling mansion, but Ian’s three balconies were adorned with various carved creations instead of flowing plants. It didn’t surprise me that Ian’s taste ran the gamut from the fantastical to the erotic. I caught a glimpse of stone gargoyles cavorting with women, men, and satyrs—or were those centaurs?—before Ian hustled me, Silver, and Ereshki inside. Night had just fallen, making it safe for demons to roam again. How quickly could Dagon track Ereshki? Or Ian, if Dagon was tracing his power in Ian the same way the spell embedded in Ian now traced others? We’d soon find out. I only hoped we would be ready.

  I’d barely had time to admire the ornate woodworking on the walls of the grand foyer when we heard a car pull up. I stiffened even though I knew Dagon would have another demon teleport him here if he’d found us and intended to ambush us. Dagon wouldn’t drive up and slam the car door when he got out. When I heard a second car door close more softly, I relaxed.

  “Cat and Crispin,” Ian said. “Prompt, for once. Take her,” he added to one of the two vampires who came into the hall, then pushed Ereshki toward them. “Keep her secured and don’t underestimate her. She’s not a normal human.”

  With that, Ian flung open the double doors before the couple walking up to them could knock. “Have a demon problem, so you’ll understand why I won’t invite you in,” he greeted them.

  Bones—whose birth name was Crispin, but only Ian called him that—gave Ian a pointed look as both he and his wife, Cat, strode inside. Cat’s red locks were still dyed that hideously drab shade of brown and Bones’s hair was still so long, it hid half his face, but their auras made the air crackle. When they walked over the threshold without hesitation, another knot in me eased. No demon could walk inside a private residence without being invited first, so this wasn’t Dagon and another demon wearing glamour in an attempt to fool us.

  In the next moment, I realized I’d relaxed too soon. Something large and dark thudded onto the front grounds with such force, the stone fountain next to it sloshed water over its sides. Perimeter alarms began to blare, but over their loud din, I caught Ian’s curse . . . and understood when that large, dark form was instantly illuminated by multiple spotlights from the roof.

  Mencheres.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t wait for an invitation, either,” Ian’s sire said as he strode up to the house.

  Ian gave Bones an evil look. “Low of you, Crispin.”

  Bones’s brow went up. “As you would say, paybacks, Ian.”

  I followed Ian into the drawing room, fighting flashbacks of the last time I’d met with his closest friends. We had presented ourselves to them as besotted newlyweds. They hadn’t bought it then, but they’d been more restrained in their disbelief, and I was including their death threats to me in that descriptor. Now, the gloves were clearly off.

  “I know why you sold your soul,” Mencheres said as soon as Ian shut the smoked glass drawing room doors behind him.

  “Of all the times to be out of heroin,” Ian muttered. Then he went to the crystal decanters on the shelf and poured himself a large glass of whatever the dark amber liquid was.

  Mencheres stared at him before his obsidian gaze landed on me. The weight of it made me feel like I was being restrained with layer upon layer of thick chains. Then he looked at Silver, who flew over and began to sniff the former pharaoh’s legs.

  “Silver,” I said in reprimand.

  “He smells my mastiffs on me,” Mencheres replied, his look turning sardonic. “Though none of my pets have wings.”

  “Who else wants whisky?” Ian said, ignoring that. “I know you’re a yes, Crispin. Cat? Veritas?”

  “I’ll have some,” I said, thinking, And I wish you had some demon blood to spike it with.

  He handed me a glass as full as his own, then gave a half-filled one to Bones before taking the chair next to mine.

  “So, Vlad or Leila finally let my secret spill,” Ian said in a conversational tone.

  “Incorrect,” Mencheres replied with the same faux pleasantness. “Both she and Vlad refused to tell me, but Vlad did say to watch my fake execution video more closely. I did. You’re almost out of the camera’s range, but after Vlad supposedly blows my head off, you come toward him with a knife. Vlad says, ‘Don’t,’ and you say, ‘Oh, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to let Mencheres do that.’ Then the video ends.”

  I hadn’t been there that day, but I knew what happened next: Ian had cut off the warding tattoo that had been blocking Dagon from finding him. And Dagon had come running.

  “Now, I finally understand what you meant.” Mencheres’s voice lost its amiability and became a harsh rasp. “You were vowing to bring me back so I could avenge my own death, and there’s only one way you could do that—by selling your soul.”

  “Except you weren’t dead.” Ian’s tone was light, as if he hadn’t paid in misery, death, and worse for his selfless act. “Gave Dagon a right good belly laugh, telling me that after our bargain was struck.”

  Pain was etched into Mencheres’s features so deeply, for an instant he looked all of his true age despite his unlined, handsome features. “I promise you that I will fix this.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Mencheres’s head, which had bowed with grief, snapped up at that. Ian continued with a wave in my direction.

  “My wife is full of surprises. Yanking me back from the grave after my death voided my soul debt to Dagon is merely one of those surprises.”

  “How?” Cat’s disbelieving outburst was echoed by her husband. Mencheres looked too shocked to speak.

  “The same way I do everything else,” I said, hoping vagueness would be enough. “Bibbity-bobbity-boo.”

  Mencheres finally found his voice. “Magic can briefly r
eanimate flesh or bones, but it cannot pull a soul from the afterlife and restore it back to their body. Only a demon deal can do that . . . or, perhaps, a demon herself.”

  Revulsion touched Cat’s features. From Bones’s hardening expression, he’d suspected that, too.

  “Don’t insult me,” I snapped before realizing I was insulting my own half brother with the comment. “Though not all demons are evil,” I amended. “Besides, I’m”—the daughter of the embodiment of the river between life and death, to hear my half-demon brother describe it—“Something else,” I finished.

  “A demigod,” Ian said with the same casualness that he’d offered them whisky with.

  Mencheres gave me a look that wasn’t entirely surprised. Bones, however, rose to his feet.

  “Your hair.” He’d actually started to recoil from me before he caught himself and stopped.

  Ian rolled his eyes. “Really, Crispin? Act your age.”

  Cat was more succinct. “What the hell, honey?”

  Bones sat back down, a flash of embarrassment crossing his features. Then they hardened and his aura flared as if arming itself. “Your. Hair.” Each word was an indictment.

  “Rude,” Cat hissed to him before saying, “I think your lowlights are cool,” in a louder voice to me. “Granted, I’m a Buckeye fan, and blue and gold are Michigan colors, but—”

  “They’re not a Wolverines tribute, Kitten,” Bones interrupted. “Remember the Angel of Death I told you about? When I caught a glimpse of his true form, his hair was just like hers.”

  Cat’s eyes bulged until they looked as if they were attempting to escape her face. “I thought my family tree was fucked up,” she breathed. “Wow.”

  Suddenly, the air felt like it was squeezing me; a warning from Mencheres. “Ariel, daughter of Aken,” he said, voice low and resonant as he true-named me. “Is Ian truly free from his soul debt to that demon?”

  At last, something I could answer without hesitation or vagueness. “Yes.”

  “She also had a ghost secretly guard me and set a spell on me that boomeranged any malicious magic off me and sent it back to its caster,” Ian said, resulting in Mencheres giving me his first real smile. “But none of that is why I called Cat and Crispin here,” he continued. “I just found out that Timothy’s alive.”

  “My friend Timothy?” At once, Cat gave Bones an accusing look. “You didn’t tell me you thought he was dead!”

  “Because I didn’t,” Bones began in an exasperated tone, then stopped when he saw Ian’s face. “You don’t mean . . . ?”

  “I do indeed,” Ian replied grimly. “Saw him myself while I was stealing this,” a swipe indicated the bulge beneath his sleeve. Right, they hadn’t seen the horn yet. “And you’ll never guess why he’d hidden himself away from us all these years.”

  “Oh, you mean your friend Timothy from when you were all human,” Cat said, cluing in. “If he’s alive, that’s great!”

  Bones gave Ian a measuring look before turning to her. “If this were only good news about Timothy being alive, Ian wouldn’t have insisted on giving it to us in person.” To Ian, he said simply, “What’s Timothy done?”

  Ian leaned back with a sigh. “It’s what he could do. You remember Timothy left because he was looking for Cain? He and the cult he joined believe they’ve found him, or Cain’s remains, as it were. More importantly, they believe those remains can be raised back to life if given the blood of a human, vampire, and ghoul tri-bred to drink.”

  Light suddenly exploded around Cat in twisting, diaphanous forms while an unearthly wail made me want to clutch my ears. Just as quickly, it was gone, leaving Cat haloed in nothing except the artificial glow of the room’s subtle high-hat lighting, while the only sound came from Silver’s contented grunt as he settled near Mencheres’s feet. I looked around, amazed that no one else seemed to have noticed that for an instant, Cat had been surrounded by deadly wraiths.

  “Your old friend wants to bleed my daughter?” she hissed.

  “If he knew about her, yes,” Ian answered bluntly. “Granted, Timothy didn’t kill me when he had the chance, but I’d never bet on friendship against zealotry, and Timothy is a zealot now.”

  Bones reached out to take Cat’s hand. “Then I hope we never see him again,” he said, his tone no less deadly for its new softness. “Now, what’s this thing you stole from him?”

  I got up, not needing to see Ian demonstrate the horn’s remarkable abilities. I must have still had a grudge against the relic for blowing Ian’s head off and nearly killing him.

  “I’ll check on Ereshki,” I said as Ian took his cashmere jacket off. Ian had arrived at the beach house this morning wearing only ripped pants, and Mr. Rich had been a similar size, so Ian had raided his closet. I wasn’t judging; I was now wearing a cashmere sweater and slacks, courtesy of Mrs. Rich.

  “I’ll go with you,” Cat said, surprising me.

  We were halfway to the door when Mencheres suddenly blocked my path. I tensed, but all he did was fold me into his arms.

  I was startled. Even at our friendliest, Mencheres and I were not huggers. Only when Mencheres whispered, “Thank you,” in a voice vibrating from emotion did I realize why he’d done this.

  Ian. Of course. We had loving him in common.

  “You’re welcome.” Though I didn’t do it for you . . .

  Mencheres released me. “As long as I’ve known you, Veritas, I’ve either admired you as an ally, respected you as an equal, or been wary of you as an adversary. Now, it is my great honor to welcome you to my family as a daughter.”

  Ian’s smirk said, Told you he’d do this.

  I was touched, but I couldn’t show how much without revealing feelings Ian didn’t yet reciprocate. That’s why I covered my deeper emotions with a wry smile.

  “That’s sweet of you, Mencheres, but considering I’m more than a hundred years older than you . . . I’m not calling you ‘Dad.’”

  He chuckled. So did everyone else, which covered up the vulnerability of the moment for me. Or so I thought. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cat giving me a knowing look. Was she very perceptive, or were all my efforts futile because what I felt for Ian was written all over my face?

  I didn’t want to find out. “Ereshki,” I said, as if reminding them of where I was going. “Where is she?”

  “Ask any of my guards,” Ian replied. “They’ll show you.”

  I looked at Cat, wishing I had an excuse to avoid her now. “Still coming?” Please say no . . .

  “Right behind you,” she replied with a quick smile.

  Shit.

  Chapter 34

  I intended to avoid conversation with Cat by quickly finding one of Ian’s guards to take me to Ereshki. However, we’d barely left the drawing room before Cat began tugging me across the formal hall to one of the many rooms beyond it.

  “The library,” she exclaimed, as if she’d never seen one before. “The last time I was here, I almost killed Ian in this!”

  She kept tugging on my arm to get me to follow her. I gave the glass-domed ceiling above the foyer a longing look. If I flung Cat through it, she’d get the hint that I didn’t appreciate being pulled along like a reluctant toddler, though that would be a bit extreme. And rude, I supposed.

  Thus, I let her lead me into the library. It was an impressive, two-story room with thousands of old and new volumes lining the walls. Another section housed glass-encased scrolls. I could have browsed the books for hours, but Cat seemed more interested in the room’s only piece of artwork, a collection of bones formed into a mosaic of the Australian outback.

  “I can’t believe Ian put this back together,” she marveled. “It crashed into pieces after I threw it at his head years ago.”

  She clearly wanted me to ask about this fight, so I did. “Why did you throw it at him?”

  “For distraction. He’d just chucked me into a wall, and I was determined to kill him even though I was surprised by how strong he was.” Then she
gave me an arch look. “But Ian heard my heartbeat, and like all vampires, the sound lulled him into believing I was far more fragile than I appeared. Being underestimated in a fight gives you the best advantage ever.”

  More conversation was only polite, I decided. Besides, she’d intrigued me. “Why were you so determined to kill him?”

  “It was my job.” She cocked her head. “I was once on the Law Guardians’ watch list, so you must know that I used to work for the government, killing vampires who indiscriminately murdered humans. I thought Ian was one of those indiscriminate murderers because my boss sent me after him. I only found out later that my boss’s reasons were personal. Ian had turned my boss’s brother into a vampire, and shortly after that, the newly fanged motherfucker wiped out most of my boss’s family.”

  Now I knew who she was talking about, and how literal of her to describe that vampire as a “motherfucker.”

  “You’re speaking of your father, Max.” Making Cat’s former boss her paternal uncle. I hadn’t known that before now.

  “Yep,” she said in a harder tone. “The other thing Max did right after getting his fangs was hook up with my mom, and he was so newly undead, he still had viable sperm. To make matters worse, right afterward, Max green-eyed my mom into believing he was a literal demon. Know what it’s like to grow up afraid of yourself because you were told that half of you is evil?”

  I flinched, then cursed myself along with my far-too-perceptive companion. I thought Cat had dragged me in here only to brag about a long-ago fight, but her real goal had been to confront me about a struggle she shouldn’t know I was having.

  “I saw your face when Ian told us what you were.” Her voice softened. “Don’t worry, the others didn’t catch it. They’d have to have lived it to do that, and they didn’t. But I did.”